To Raise A Hero
by Sathaeri
Summary: No one can replace a mother, but there is such a thing as a mother figure. For young Lady Cousland, there is no better mother figure than Nan, whose love for the daughter she never had transcends all boundaries between them.


_**A/N:**__ This is a rather long one-shot I wrote about Nan from the Human Noble Origin. I spoke to her after "Mischief in the Larder" and she told me a tale that she said she'd told my character every night when she was young. The thought of Fem!Cousland being raised by Nan for a lot of her life intrigued me... so here it is! It originally wasn't going to span the entire Dragon Age plot, but I kind of like how it ends this way. Fem!Cousland/Alistair, though it shouldn't be hard to figure out, and __**game spoilers**__. Please, please read and review!_

**~o~O~o~**

In hindsight, her brother was much less troublesome to raise than she was.

One would think Teryna Eleanor Cousland would have had the largest part in bringing up her own daughter, but often times her duties took her away from her children, leaving them in the hands of Nan.

Nan had always been at the castle since her first time as the almost-royal babysitter. She held little Fergus Cousland, first child of Teryn Bryce Cousland, in her arms countless times, after his parents had to leave for some important event in the capital or something like that. And, after the birth of their second child about four or so years later, they seemed to become even busier. The teryn always had things planned for Fergus, however, and so as the boy grew, he had lessons to attend and training to do, leaving Nan with the daughter, little Lady Cousland.

She seemed bursting at the seams with energy, never tiring until it seemed almost inevitable to Nan that her head would explode from keeping track of where she went. Right when she thought it was all over with her and her job, little Lady Cousland would run up to her and collapse in her arms, asking for a naptime story.

Nan knew the perfect one for such a small child with large shoes to fill. "All right, I'll tell you one. It's called 'The Dog That Bit.'"

"I like dogs," she would say eagerly, sitting in Nan's lap and waiting like a kitten watching its prey.

"Long ago, before our father's fathers came down from the mountains," Nan would start, "a hound was born to the elder bitch of a tribe. They named him Hohaku, and he was going to be the partner of the chief's eldest son."

"Like Doggy?" she asked the first time, speaking of the mabari she liked to play with in the town of Highever.

"Yes, sweetie, like Doggy," she answered. "The hound grew prideful, however. And he bullied and stole from other dogs and people, telling them that they couldn't harm him, otherwise the chief would be very angry with them.

"People went to the chief to complain, but he did not want to hear it, and he sent the people away. But he began to notice Hohaku's behavior. The day might come when his son's life would depend on this dog. If the humblest of villagers couldn't trust him, then how could he?"

Three-year-old Lady Cousland would be asleep by then, and Nan would pick her up tenderly like she was the daughter she never had and tuck her into bed, staying at her side in case she woke up wanting to play or cry. Nan would be there for her, for anything.

Eventually the little Cousland grew old enough to stay up and hear the rest of it, and she would be mesmerized by the tale. "What happened next?" she'd ask excitedly.

"When the chief's son came of age and it was time for him to earn his canine partner," Nan would continue, "the chief chose the hound's brother instead of Hohaku."

"Good...?"

"Sort of. Hohaku was so outraged that he ran over to the chief and bit his hand."

Lady Cousland gasped. "Owie!"

Nan had to laugh. "Indeed. And so Hohaku ran out. He tried to find a place to hide, looking for safe shelter among the other hounds and villagers, but they came after him, and before the chief could reach him, they had torn Hohaku apart."

The little Cousland could only stare in awe at the ending with bright eyes. "The moral of the story," said Nan, "is that you should not abuse your power. You'd do well to remember that, child."

"Yes, Nan! Of course!" She stood up and put her hand on her heart. "I promise!"

Nan would smile as the girl pulled on her hand, leading her to the courtyard to play or the walls of the castle to watch the sun set into the sea. She always wanted Nan around, and it made Nan feel happy to be wanted.

The teryn and teryna trusted Nan deeply with their children. Even after seven-year-old Lady Cousland had escaped her watch and fallen down stairs, they wouldn't let Nan go despite her mistake, because their daughter wanted her to stay.

The girl grew and grew. She grew into a smart-mouthed teenager, and Nan had to run around scrambling to find her before spring salons and ball dances, always catching her playing war games with Fergus and Ser Gilmore, then dragging her away to her mother to get dolled up for the big event, hearing her cries of protest become more desperate as they neared her room. Nan even had to hold her down once, when she_ really _didn't want to go or get dressed all pretty, and she struggled and screamed against her arms, strengthened from other trials she had put her through.

And even when that was all done, and she said she _hated _the dress and _hated _going there and _hated them_, she always came back to her room afterwards, where Nan was stitching her pillow or fixing the hem of her nightgown, and she would sit on the bed and ask the same question:

"Tell me that story again, please?"

Nan would smile and sit with her and begin for the thousandth time. "Long ago, before our father's fathers came down from the mountains..."

She would listen attentively like she had all those years, and when Nan was done with the story she'd say that the moral was not to abuse your power, and boast that she remembered, and she told her she would always remember, didn't she? And Nan would smile again and say that was absolutely right, that was the lesson, and it was good that she remembered.

Teenage Lady Cousland would stare at her lap for a while and then look up at Nan and say sorry that she yelled at her and she didn't hate her at all. Instead, she'd say, she loved her very much and nothing would ever change that, nothing in the world. Nan would simply accept her apology and they'd hug and make up and afterwards Lady Cousland would fall asleep while spilling her guts about that cute young man she saw at the salon.

The girl's beauty bloomed over the years, and suitors would come from all over, looking to have her hand in marriage. She often had to go out with them to their estates or mansions and spend time with them, but she'd always return to Castle Cousland and at night she'd tell Nan all about it, how he was so inconsiderate to his servants or he smelled funny or that his voice was so very_ annoying_. Nan would nod her head in understanding, telling her to take her time with this and there was still a lot of time and that there are more fish in the sea, so to speak. And she would thank her for being there for her whenever her own mama wasn't. It was like having a second mother, one that was admittedly older, but experienced and kind and with all the same motherly qualities.

Now Nan is much older and looking at the same girl, only it isn't an energetic three-year-old, or a reckless seven-year-old, or a rebellious teenager. She's a beautiful young woman whose twentieth birthday was about three and a half years ago, with a witty tongue and incredible prowess as a fighter. "You! And _you!_" shouts Nan, pointing at her. "Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!"

She smiles weakly. "I'm sorry he's bothering you, Nan," she says.

"Just get him gone," Nan replies, frustrated with that aggravatingly intelligent dog she got many years ago. "I've enough to worry about with a castle full of hungry soldiers."

Lady Cousland and her friend Ser Gilmore open the larder door and Nan sees that mischievous hound again, sniffing around, and she hopes that he hasn't located the roast otherwise dinner is _ruined_. They close the door and Nan hears swordplay for a little bit, and not the dirty kind, thank the Maker. When Ser Gilmore opens the door again he's wiping blood off his armor with a small rag and gives Nan a small nod before exiting the kitchen. Nan glances inside and observes Lady Cousland as she pets her hound and lets him lick the blood off her. Then she turns and walks out of the larder. "There he is, as brazen as you please," Nan says as the mabari follows, "licking his chops after helping himself to the roast, no doubt."

"Actually, Nan," she says, her voice like bells, "he was defending your larder from rats. Big ones," she adds.

"R-rats?" The female elf servant Adney stammers, putting her lithe hands to her chest. "N-not the large grey ones?"

"They'll rip you to shreds, they will!" exclaims the other elven servant.

"See? Now you've gone and scared the servants." Nan wipes her hands on her apron. "I assume those filthy things are dead?"

The young woman grins. "My faithful war hound made sure it's safe."

"I bet that dog led them in there to begin with!" Nan complains, staring stiffly at the dog. He whines, and Nan just has to give in to him, as he is Lady Cousland's trusted companion, much like Hohaku's brother was to the chief's eldest son, and this gives Nan an idea. "Now if you'll just hold on a minute," she says, before barking orders to the servants.

"Busy day?" Lady Cousland asks with a faint smile that makes her beauty even more apparent.

Nan answers that everything is fine, except for that bloody dog, but that isn't the point. "What about you, my lady? Been keeping safe and well-behaved, I hope?"

She grins again. "Why would I say anything but yes?"

"That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble one day, young lady," says Nan, narrowing her eyes. The girl giggles and Nan sighs. "Do you remember that story I used to tell you? 'The Dog That Bit'?"

"Of course I remember it," she replies confidently.

"Good. Then you can start."

She looks up dreamily as the nostalgia descends onto her. "Long ago, before our father's fathers came down from the mountains..."

"...a hound was born to the elder bitch of a tribe," Nan says, then she continues to relate the tale as the teryn's daughter adds little bits and pieces. "Now, what should you gain from this tale?" she asks after finishing, wondering if she could still keep her promise after eighteen years.

But she proves herself when she says, "Don't abuse your power." Nan smiles and says that's exactly right, and it's good that she remembers. "I told you I would," Lady Cousland says. "And... why did you tell me this story again?"

"Oh, it's just a story worth repeating is all," Nan answers. "Now, go say goodbye to your brother for me." The young woman hugs Nan and takes her leave along with that demonic dog of hers, Maker be praised. Nan turns and gets back to cooking and shouting orders to the servants, all the while thinking back onto the days when taking care of the Cousland children was still her responsibility.

It's after dinner now and Lady Cousland has already gone to bed, sent early to prepare for her undoubtedly long day tomorrow, and Nan is still up scrubbing pots and pans in the rooms full of wash basins for dishes and clothes. She almost doesn't remember her own name for a second as she rubs the pots in soapy water. She is so used to being just Nan.

A sound outside the room garners her attention. It is the sound of running, armored feet on the cobblestoned paths of the castle. Nan stands up. _That doesn't sound right_, she thinks, but before she can think twice about investigating, the door bursts open and they are upon her.

**~o~O~o~**

She watches from the sky now, looking down upon the child she helped raise for so many years. She watches as she travels to the ruins in the south, watches as she battles darkspawn in the Wilds, watches as she drinks their blood and taints herself forever. She watches the young man catch her before she hits the cold stone floor, and instantly she can see that they are destined to love each other.

She keeps watching over her like a guardian angel. She sees her come close to death, and while her body dangles from the talons of a large hawk, she gets to see her once more.

"...Nan...?" she asks, her voice faint.

"Everything is fine, dear," Nan answers, trying to calm the girl's frantic soul. "You will be all right."

"Nan..." Her voice cracks. "...Nan! Help me!"

"Hush, sweetie. You are fine."

She sees her spirit fall back into the limp, broken body lying on the bed, smothered over and over again with healing magic. The man who is with her wakes up and tries to move, but is pushed down by the Wilds girl. Nan can see that the Wilds girl is destined to be Lady Cousland's friend as well, despite her abrasive nature.

Nan, with nothing really better to do, keeps her eye on the young woman she raised, watching her gain friends and allies, trust and love. She watches her fall for the bastard prince, and he falls for her. She watches them find happiness even in darkness and smiles upon them as they lie together under the stars, holding each other close. She can see that the girl doesn't want to lose more than she already has.

**~o~O~o~**

Nan never felt very interested in the surge of darkspawn, but now she sees it. It is carnage and horror, and Lady Cousland is striking it down.

She runs up to the dragon and slices its throat. It howls and roars and falls to the ground, and the woman Nan helped raise brings the sword above her head, piercing the dragon's skull. Light shoots up and before Nan can comprehend what has happened, it explodes, and her spirit floats up to meet her again.

"Nan..." she says sleepily.

Nan looks down at the body. The prince lifts her, his face twisting in immense pain. "My lady," she replies looking back up, and she laughs because it is so trivial now.

"Nan? Where am I?"

"You're in the Fade," Nan answers. "Where your spirit goes when your body is resting."

"Which means..." Her soul looks confused. "I'm... not dead?"

"That's right."

"I love you, Nan," she says suddenly. Her voice is still like music, even as it echoes among them. And before Nan can say anything, the spirit is gone and back in the same body it left.

She still isn't awake, though. Nan whispers to her, "Do you remember the tale I used to tell you?"

She slowly comes to. "Long ago," the girl whispers as her eyes open, "before our father's fathers came down from the mountains..."

"You're alive!" the bastard prince says to her, and pulls her close. Her mabari, who hadn't left her side since they returned to the palace, barks eagerly to see his mistress awake. Nan smiles to herself.

The Lady Cousland she helped raise has embraced destiny and managed to change the world forever.

Even with that bloody dog.


End file.
